The Indian Serenade - Liva

I arise from dreams of thee

In the first sweet sleep of night

When the winds are breathing low

And the stars are shining bright

I arise from dreams of thee

And a spirit in my feet

Hath led me, who knows how

To thy chamber window, Sweet

The wandering airs they faint

On the dark, the silent stream

The Champak odours fail

Like sweet thoughts in a dream

The nightingale’s complaint

It dies upon her heart

As I must on thine

Beloved as thou art

Oh lift me from the grass

I die!

I faint!

I fail!

Let thy love in kisses rain

On my lips and eyelids pale

My cheek is cold and white, alas!

My heart beats loud and fast

Oh!

press it close to thine again

Where it will break at last.